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No, I only hear my fan’s threats circling my brain on autopilot. I feel weighted down by it all, and I’m so very tired of it.

There are times when I lay awake at night and just worry, because eventually whoever this is, they’re going to follow through on their threats. And what does that mean for me?

Is he or she going to hurt me? Can it end any other way?

There is no way out for me until this creep is revealed, but that only decreases my chances of making it through this alive. My life is in danger, and nothing I’ve been doing is solving the damn problem.

Colt shows up halfway through the day with a fresh set of bruises and a grim expression. He looks particularly gruesome, and I wonder who he squared off with that actually inflicted this much damage.

He gives me a mercurial stare but keeps his distance, and I go home relieved but curious. Since I shouldn’t care, I force myself to get some homework done, refreshingly mindless to the task before me until the intense blare of the alarm goes off unexpectedly.

“Shit,” I shriek, jumping right out of my skin.

Grabbing my phone, I open the security app to see that the fucking back door has been breached, which means whoever entered is just feet from where I stand. Trembling, I wait for my fan to round the corner.

It sounds corny, I know, but my life truly does flash before my eyes. Colt and how much I care for him, broken as he is. Maggie, who’s been the surrogate mother I needed these last few months. The friends I’ve made, who I grow closer to with each passing day, knowing they like me for me and not the shell I was before.

I’m still standing frozen in the living room when the police arrive, only breaking from my panicked trance when they pound on the front door.

Opening it quickly, I stand to the side as they search the interior with weapons drawn, and it’s all so surreal as I watch grimly from my front lawn.

Finally, they emerge, a grim-faced officer holding a box in his hands. Carefully he shows me what’s inside, and I step back, covering my gasp with a trembling hand.

Another gift, a warning, I suppose...an alarm system isn’t going to stop whoever this is.

Inside is a picture of me, undressing in my room. I have my bra on and a pair of pants, but the view is close enough to show, this jerk has been spying on me closer than I thought.

It’s through the blinds of my window but for fucks sake, did he climb a tree?

The box is taken to check for prints and Maggie, and I remain, sitting on the couch in a daze. When it’s time for bed, I crawl in beside her in her room, and she says nothing as I lay awake all night and stare at the ceiling.

*****

Since Maggie doesn’t want me to be alone, I grudgingly asked Hayden to pick me up this morning for school. I’m still unsure where I stand with Colt, and I’m afraid to open myself up only to be shot down. I’m depressed enough as it is.

Besides, he’s in danger because of me - the more distance I put between us, the better. Clearly, my fan is getting bolder, and I don’t want to tip him over the edge.

“Okay, kid. I’ll work on replacing the doors,” she says as Hayden pulls up in front of the house in his muscle car.

“He can still get in the windows,” I whisper.

“Then I’ll get bars,” she says grimly.

Giving her an incredulous look, I slowly nod at her determined face and smile. If anyone can figure out how to fortify the house, it’s got to be Maggie.

“Have a good day, kid. Call if you need a ride,” she says in her raspy voice.

“Okay.”

Traipsing to the car, I slide in, and Hayden takes off, glancing at me curiously. “What’s going on? You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly.

“So?”

Hesitating, I give in. If Hayden is my damn stalker, he already knows what happened, and I’m fucked anyway because I’m sitting in his damn car.

“My fan left me a gift last night,” I murmur, watching his face closely.

At first, all I see is confusion, which fades to concern when he remembers our conversation. It feels like a lifetime ago now, but I confessed to a group of virtual strangers and Melissa about my fan when pressed about why I moved to South.

Apparently, Hayden forgot until now.

“What did he leave?” he asks gruffly.

“A picture of um me.”

“A picture?”

“Yes, it’s of me. In my room.”

“Fuck, that’s bad news, Finn. Did you tell Colt?”

“What? No, why would I tell him?”

“Finn, Colt’s got it bad for you. Yes, he’s a dick, but he cares. You need to tell him.”

“I don’t even know when he’s telling me the truth! For all I know, he’s my stalker,” I seethe.

He laughs out loud, “He’s not your fucking stalker. Do you really believe that?”

“I did,” I admit.

“Well, that’s fucked up. Yes, Colt’s done some weird shit, hell we all have. That doesn’t make him a complete psychopath.”

“Weird shit?” I ask, exiting the car and following him through the lot. “What weird shit?”

“Look,” he says, spinning toward me, “this all started wrong. We made a mistake, but Colt, the fucking dick loves you. God help him, and now might be a good fucking time for him to be around.”

Shrinking under his intensity, I’m reminded of my desperation last night when I thought I was going to die, but I push it away to analyze later.

“What do you mean, you made a mistake?”

I’m surprised Colt isn’t lying in wait as we square off in our heated discussion, but I see no sign of him. Fighting both relief and disappointment, I wait for Hayden to give me the answers he’s alluding to.

“It doesn’t matter. Look, there’s a party Friday night. I think you should be there,” he says, looking down

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